


Tied Up With Strings

by irolltwenties (Shenanigans)



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: 5+1 Things, BAMF Alex Manes, Ficlets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans/pseuds/irolltwenties
Summary: Five times Alex Manes was a badass.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 8
Kudos: 169





	Tied Up With Strings

1\. Kyle

Kyle was pretty sure he’d been standing up a moment ago. He was pretty sure he’d been trying to get Alex’s attention in the bunker, calling his name a few times to where Alex was completely absorbed in his project. The Airman was standing and staring at the scrolling data on the bank of monitors in the Project Shepherd Bunker, unaware of anyone else. Kyle had finally given up and reached to shake his shoulder. 

Kyle was pretty sure most people didn’t react by grabbing his wrist, spinning quickly, and leveraging him over his hip to be flipped flat on his back. It stunned the breath out of him and he took a moment, staring at the ceiling as he managed short shallow breaths and a look of utter and complete betrayal.

“Seriously, Manes?”

“Don’t sneak up on me, Kyle,” Alex replied, confusion pulling into a quick line between his eyebrows even as he bent to hold out a hand. 

“Okay, Kung-fu Grip.”

Alex’s mouth twisted into a quick sly smirk, eyebrow flicking up in amusement. “You do respect my choices.”

Kyle made a face, rolling his eyes and clasping Alex’s wrist to haul back to his feet. “Does that mean you’ll stop throwing me around?”

Alex narrowed his eyes, tilting his head consideringly before turning back to the data bank and pointing at it with a hard line jaw. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

2\. Liz 

“If we can make sure that the data cross references correctly, we might be able to use that as the crypto key.”

“You’re talking about using the genetic data as the point of reference instead of an outside linguis-”

“Makes sense that you two would be hanging out,” Wyatt Long sneered, recently released on bail and five whiskeys deep. 

“Now’s not a good time, Long.”

Wyatt Long was barely upright, clutching both the pool cue and the edge of the booth table as he paused to steep both Alex and Liz in a long gaze filled with an unrelenting and unfiltered hate. “Couldn’t just stay gone, had to come back. Had to come back and stir shit up. Now you and your fa-”

“Wyatt.”

Wyatt glanced over at where Alex hadn’t looked up from his beer, tapping the neck with long fingers. “Oh, the cocksucker is sens-”

Liz didn’t even see Alex move at first, just the sudden thump of Wyatt’s head against the table, the way it seemed to ricochet back into Alex’s waiting palm, and then the way Alex caught his chin in his other palm. Alex nodded once, face flat and unmoved as he shifted over in the booth to help ease an unconscious Wyatt to the floor of the Pony. She managed to put it together in retrospect. 

Alex had warned Wyatt and then shut him up promptly by snapping his face against the table top, knocking him unconscious and thankfully silent in one quick move. She watched her friend shake his head down at Wyatt’s prone form and then move back to his seat, tilting her a quick apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry, you were saying?”

3\. Max

The hallways through the darkened Stradlater facility were half lit by the distant emergency lights, casting long shadows through the empty hospital wing. Each door was closed, the smoked glass causing a disconnect that seemed to press against Max’s skin like a hot wet blanket, sucking the energy from him as he paced silent down the West Wing. He kept his weapon up, elbows bent and weight mitigated by a palm under his wrist. He slid a shoulder along the wall, keeping his eyes on the small shifting leaves that whirled into a corner and then skidded across the scuffed tile in a faint breeze from the shattered windows at each end of the wing.

He’d found a reference to the facility at the archives as he followed the lead on a murder in the desert. He’d almost called for backup, but had found himself drawn to the site, to the old military records, to the vague feeling that something was wrong.

Max Evans hadn’t felt this blind in years, caught close in the walls of a facility that seemed empty and dark, just a few lights he’d managed to clock into life. He was alone, white hat settled light on his brow as he shifted, clearing each floor in a practiced sweep. His thighs burned, knees bent on high alert. 

There was a scuff to his right and he moved, weapon swinging to the right around a blind corner as his body swung in counter time. He had been holding a weapon almost as long as he could remember, comfortable against his palm and an extension of his arm. It was necessary for this job. It was necessary to protect his family.

So, when a hand snapped forward, pressing the extractor plug and pulling the spring loaded bearing from the frame before dropping the magazine with a flick of thumb, Max didn’t think, just pulled the trigger: useless. The slide skidded across the scuffed tile at the same time the magazine fell to the floor with a clatter. He was pulled forward, off balance with a quick tug, elbow to the crook of his that pulled his firing hand up to the ceiling, twisted, and dropped what was left of the weapon. A second later he was aware of the press of a gun against his jaw, the metal cold before dropping away as the other person in the hall took a quick step back.

“Max?” Alex Manes was staring at him with wide eyes and visible concern, thumb against the safety on his Glock as he looked Max over and then back down the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting my ass handed to me, apparently,” Max replied, frowning down at the magazine on the floor and the way his hand was still numb where he was shaking it out.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Story of my life.”

4\. Maria

“No way.” Maria was looking at a painted light pole consideringly. She had both hands on her hips where she stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with Alex Manes.

“Easy.” He nodded once, twisting out of the colorful flannel and holding it out to her. He was in a pair of jeans, boots, and a plain gray t-shirt.

“No.”

Alex just nodded and gave her a bright smile before reaching over and grabbing the sturdy painted light pole. He cleared his throat, considered it before reaching and hooking his other hand behind, and moved close. He tucked one arm over, sliding the other down to about a foot lower and blew out a breath. “You owe me thirty bucks.”

“Still have to deliver, Manes.”

Alex touched his tongue to his teeth, waggling his eyebrows at her for a second before he paused, closing his eyes and simply lifted the weight of his body up, core gone tight where his shirt fell slightly away from his stomach, hanging toward the ground as he went perpendicular, perfectly poised. He didn’t shake, just held himself at a right angle to the ground with both legs straight. Maria’s mouth dropped open slightly, eyes up, impressed. She didn’t say anything just peeled two twenties from the roll in her pocket and held them out.

“Okay then. You were right.”

5\. Isobel

“So you can just…?” Isobel took a half step closer to the monitor bank in the bunker. It was cool here, the air half circulated from deep fans that seemed to kick on with a low growl of metal against metal. She’d liked the chairs, the long mid century modern table, and Alex. The rest needed work. She pursed her mouth, tucking her hair back behind her shoulder as she cocked a hip, canting her weight to the left and frowned at where Alex was sitting.

“Make him disappear?” Alex turned slightly, gauging her response before turning back to the glow of the monitors, fingers moving deftly over the keys as he tapped out a line of code faster than she could follow. “Yes.”

Isobel sniffed, staring at the picture of Noah Bracken that was in the top right corner, the long strings of data that combined her assets with that of a dead man who was currently haunting her nightmares and her life. She wasn’t sure if he was alive out there in the world, alive after they’d left him dead in the desert. She wasn’t sure, but she needed to be safe. 

Alex Manes was waiting, deep in the back channels of the sprawling connected electric world, ready to erase her husband with a keystroke. He could take a life without shedding blood. It was just suggestion of another kind and she could appreciate it. He was calm, waiting.

Isobel Evans erased her husband with a keystroke command. Alex Manes helped bury the body.

“Do it.”

+1 Michael

“Alex?”

“Shut up,” Alex mumbled, not looking at him as he focused on the touch plate key to the door Michael was behind.

“I didn-”

“Shut up.” Alex’s mouth was a flat line, brows drawn together angrily, and jaw hard as he popped the plate open, tracing the lines of wires until he found the source and pulled, the whole cell going bright once before squawking and shutting down. The door slid open with a soft hiss. Alex looked up, eyes flashing with a barely contained rage and Michael swallowed, caught in the crossfire.

“You came.”

“Of course I came.” Alex tossed him a pair of jeans and a shirt, turning and holding a gun down the hall, obviously waiting for Michael to get dressed. “Hurry up. We have maybe five minutes before they discover the loop.”

“I didn’t thi-”

“You never think, Guerin. Put on some pants and let me get you out of here so I can yell at you the way you deserve. We don’t have time right now to address your self sacrificing idiocy appropriate-”

Alex cut off, jaw going hard as he ducked around the edge of the door and fired off two quick rounds with an annoyed hiss of noise. “Get behind me.”

Michael followed, staring at the body at the end of the hall, the sparking electrical box, and the way the whole complex seemed a breath away from chaos. “If we don’t-”

“Shut up. I’m not losing you.” Alex didn’t look back, just paced forward, pausing to clip the security cameras with a quick shot and continue moving. Michael swallowed and followed, head blind and powerless.

He knew what I love you sounded like in Alex’s mouth. He shouldn’t smile, but the crackle of gunfire, the smell of ozone, and Alex Manes’ rescuing him meant only one thing.


End file.
